


Love You Completely

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Domination, Bondage and Discipline, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9857489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: “We want to love you completely. Physically.” Ron finally looked up. “Because it's the only thing that will bring both of us peace.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Showcased: Bisexual Domination  
> Warnings: Threesome with two participants in an established relationship, language, pegging, magical bondage, elements of D/s play, rimming, forced cunnilingus (face-sitting), fellatio, blink-and-you'll-miss-it foot fetish, subspace. Mentions of past mental ill health but not a strong theme.

**Hermione**  
  
“Ron?” Hermione called, pushing the front door closed behind her. “Are you home?”  
“No, I regularly leave all the lights on, put the fire on and sod off out,” came the sarcastic reply. “Living room.”  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes along with the private little smile she allowed herself to have where Ron couldn't see her. She put her carrier bags down by her feet and shrugged her coat off, before happily kicking off the shoes which had been murdering her toes all day.  
  
Stepping around the shopping, she headed for the sitting room where she hoped it was warm and cosy.  
  
Ron was curled up on his usual end of the sofa close to the fire, with his long legs twisted underneath him. She loved seeing him like that – sat in an oversized hooded jumper, reading glasses slipping down his long nose and his hair in the sort of disarray that hinted he'd had a nap at some point during the afternoon.  
  
“Busy day?” she teased, raising her eyebrows.  
“Killer. I only had time for one nap. One.” Ron held up his forefinger and made a sad face.  
“Poor you.” Hermione laughed.  
  
She rounded the sofa and flopped down on it, thrusting her feet into Ron's warm lap and knocking the paper out of his hands.  
  
“Sure. I wasn't reading that. Not important.” He flicked her a surly look over the rim of his glasses but put his hot, huge hands to her sore feet anyway. “Good day?”  
“Long day,” Hermione confirmed, tipping her head back onto the arm of the sofa and closing her eyes. “Full of idiots and firefighting. I'm so pleased it's the weekend.”  
“The Underminister never rests, though,” Ron pointed out. “Think we'll get the whole two days without you getting called in to the office?”  
“I'm not going even if I am,” she moaned.  
  
She knew exactly the expression that Ron would be wearing. She chose to keep her eyes shut and enjoy the sensation of his clever fingers working magic on her feet.  
  
“I bought cake,” she said through a yawn. “And thought we could get takeaway for dinner.”  
“Maybe I want to take you out?” Ron said.  
  
Hermione froze and looked at him in horror.  
  
“I'm joking,” Ron said quickly, shooting her an angelic grin.  
“If I didn't love your balls so much, I'd kick you in them.” Hermione huffed and settled herself again.  
“We established I'm not a fan of that sort of treatment.”  
“Not a fan of _taking_ that sort of treatment, you mean. You're perfectly happy dishing out a bit of pain and discomfort.”  
“Being kicked in the goolies is not 'a bit of pain and discomfort' – it's bloody agony.”  
  
Hermione had nothing to say to that. She'd never know.  
  
Ron continued to gently massage her feet and she could feel herself sliding deeper and deeper down until she might fall asleep completely.  
  
She almost missed it when Ron spoke to her, in the gentle and cautious tone that he only reserved for when he was anxious about something.  
  
“Hermione?”  
“What, lovely?” She forced her eyes open.  
“I can't get what we talked about the other night out of my head. I've tried and I can't.”  
“I've had a hard time getting it out of my mind too,” she admitted, and with a sigh made herself sit up.  
  
Ron turned towards her, easing his legs out in front of him. Hermione had no problem in reversing the position – she drew her husband's cold, pale feet into her own lap and started to stroke them.  
  
“You're not wearing socks, that's why your feet are freezing.”  
“My feet are freezing because my blood pressure is stupidly low,” Ron corrected. “And meh, I had socks, but I lost them somewhere...”  
“Are you a toddler?”  
  
Ron shrugged. “If that lets me off losing socks then yeah.”  
  
Hermione shook her head and looked out of the window at the rain.  
  
“I want to ask him,” Ron said softly. “I want...”  
“Then we'll ask him,” Hermione promised. “We both want it. And Godric knows he's crying out for love at every possible opportunity.”  
“What if he says no?” Ron whispered. “What if it ruins everything? When he learns that we're both obsessed with power in the bedroom and thinks we're a bunch of loonies?”  
“The point is, Ron, he's already seen us at our worst. He propped you up when you left the Aurors, when you were ill. He saw me after the war, when my parents wouldn't forgive what I'd done. Harry's been through everything with us.”  
“Yeah, but wanting to be our sub is a whole other bag, 'Mione.”  
“Sub? Someone's been reading that book I got, hasn't he?”  
“Oh, fuck off. A man can read. And wank five minutes later.”  
  
She glanced at him; Ron was grinning again, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks as he looked sheepishly down at his lap.  
  
She loved him more than anybody else in the world. As a girl she'd never really understood how consuming her passion for him would become, as she supposed all teenage girls underestimated.  
  
Ron was her rock. Nobody made the world feel right again like Ronald Weasley. If she had a bad day, or felt the pressure throttling her, Ron made it go away - however briefly - and then she felt more able to cope with it when it returned.  
  
He was everything, but she liked to be dominant in the bedroom, and so did he. They'd tried experimenting - shifting the power play by night, by the hour, in ten minute slots, but nothing had really hit the spot.  
  
How they'd landed on Harry as a potential stand in – for both of them – she couldn't really remember. It had been late, they'd both been shattered and on their backs, panting away the remnants of trying to tackle sex as two dominant partners. As spent as she'd been, she could still recall the slight rush of pleasure between her legs when Ron had confessed that he wouldn't mind if they experimented with someone else – another man, especially. She'd known he'd been curious for some time, as far back as the war. And she'd also known that there was more than friendly affection in the way he looked at Harry.  
  
Probably because it was the same way that she looked at Harry, too.  
  
“Then... if we both want it, why don't we just say it? He can say no. Or take as much time as he needs to make a decision.”  
“But I'm just scared of pushing him away,” Ron said. “I mean... I know... I know what we could have might be fucking amazing, but to lose what we have now? To lose him?”  
  
Hermione wasn't surprised to see moisture in Ron's eyes when she looked at him.  
  
“We won't – _can't_ \- let that happen.”  
“And what if...” Ron's eyes dipped down to his lip. “What if it fucks things up between _us_? What if...”  
“What if we both fall madly in love with Harry and out love with each other?” Hermione finished for him.  
  
Ron nodded glumly.  
  
“Ron. I love you. You love me. And I think we're strong enough for this. And if it turns out we're not, we stop.”  
“And break his heart in the process?” Ron shook his head.  
  
Hermione had nothing to say to that. What they proposed was risky for all of them. Seeing how unprepared Ron was to hurt Harry made her chest swell with pride.  
  
“All we can do is talk it through. An idea. Not all ideas come to fruition and if Harry doesn't want to, then we can look elsewhere. For someone a little bit less tangled up with our lives. And happiness.”  
  
***  
  
She was glad that Harry had invited himself round for dinner. That way it didn't look like they were trying to butter him up given the question they both wanted to ask. She'd wanted to take some time to talk through it with Ron some more, but neither of them were going to make it through an entire evening without saying something.  
  
Ron was cooking his speciality of Carbonara and there was a wine bottle already open. It had taken her a long time to talk the redhead round to the subtle beauty of a glass of red, but once she'd got there, she continually had to fight him for the bottle. Especially once he'd attempted home brewing and discovered yet another hidden talent.  
  
“That smells so good.” She inhaled again and sidled up behind Ron. She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder. She gave him a squeeze. “Are you okay?”  
“Bit worried,” Ron murmured, and Hermione knew that meant his anxiety was gnawing at him constantly.  
“It's going to be fine.”  
  
“What's going to be fine?” Harry's voice made them both jump out of their skin.  
  
Hermione couldn't remember when they'd programmed the house wards to allow Harry immediate access. Over the years it had proved interesting but never awkward enough to convince them to revoke his access. They'd both agreed that they'd much rather Harry find them exactly when he needed them than him go elsewhere.  
  
“Harry.” Hermione hurried over and kissed him on the cheek. “How're you?”  
“Not bad,” Harry said. “Ron? You?”  
“All right, mate. Starving. Like my mother, I'm unable to cook for less than ten people in one go so I fucking hope you are, too.”  
“I would eat your Carbonara until it came out of my ears, Ron.” Harry grinned to himself as he sat down at the kitchen table. “I was going to bring wine, but what's the point, Ron's is ten times better. So I brought pudding instead.”  
  
Hermione took the box he handed to her and eased open the lid. “Harry!”  
“What is it?” Ron asked, not turning away from the stove.  
“One of those profiterole stacks from the bakery near George's.”  
“Well there goes my waistline,” Ron said cheerfully.  
  
After popping the box on the side, Hermione poured Harry a large glass of wine.  
  
“Trying to get me drunk?” He laughed and took a massive mouthful regardless.  
  
Hermione just smiled at him in return, because she didn't think her voice would work properly.  
  
“Are you two sure you're all right?” Harry frowned. “You look a bit... weird.”  
“Weirder than usual?” Ron took a break from stirring to pick up his own glass and drink some of the fruits of his labour, which Hermione was assumed for courage.  
  
Harry looked hesitantly between them. “Should I be worried?”  
“Nope,” Ron said resolutely, gulped back a few more mouthfuls of wine and turned back to the hob. “Grub's up, guys. I'm serving this shit.”  
  
Hermione grabbed some cutlery and the wine bottle and put them on the table. Ron sent over the plates with magic one by one as he doled out the food. Eventually he joined them after moving the pan off the heat and washing his hands. He shot Hermione a furtive look as he sat down and topped up their wine glasses.  
  
The black pepper mill floated to each of them in turn and then settled back on the table with a 'thunk'.  
  
“Dig in, what're you waiting for?” Ron exclaimed, stabbing his fork into the mound on his plate and beginning to twirl.  
“I've told you, not everyone eats like a puppy fighting for their fair share of the food, Ron,” Hermione teased.  
“When I was a kid if you didn't eat fast you didn't eat. It's not something you can just shake off.”  
“Despite being a fully grown adult who cooks his own food and has been living apart from his family for some time now?”  
  
Harry laughed at that and shook his head. “Adult? Have you forgotten your husband works in a joke shop, Hermione?”  
“Co-Owns,” Ron interjected grumpily.  
  
Hermione reached out and squeezed Ron's knee under the table. Though Ron enjoyed his work, he still found the whole matter of him leaving the Aurors a very sore subject. It hurt him, she supposed, to have apparently failed at such a great and glamorous career. Ron hadn't failed anything – more accurately, his mental health had failed _him_ and made leaving the only option.  
  
She never wanted to go back to those days. Seeing him so broken had broken her all over again.  
  
“And co-owns it very well,” Harry conceded. “Even though I lost my partner and I still haven't forgiven you.”  
  
There was something in the way Harry glanced at Ron and then looked hurriedly back down at his plate which encouraged Hermione – which made her suspect and hope that what they were going to propose would not be unwanted.  
  
To that end, she drank some more wine and watched her two boys eat.  
  
“Something up?” Ron asked, nodding at her barely-touched plate.  
“No. I just... Harry. We want to ask you something.”  
“Whassat?” Harry mumbled through a mouthful of food.  
  
She opened her mouth to continue but the words had disappeared. She looked at Ron and saw he'd gone pale.  
  
“We... we both feel that we're...” Ron started, his voice croaking by the time he broke off. “That we want more with you than we've ever had before.”  
  
Harry slowly chewed to the end of his mouthful, looking worriedly between them. Eventually he swallowed and drank some wine.  
  
“What do you mean, more? We share everything.”  
“No, we don't,” Ron disagreed, shaking his head. He set down his fork. “And we... we'd like to share everything. With you.”  
“What's left to share?” Harry asked, his voice and expression equally tense.  
  
Hermione was about to jump in with something delicate, so when Ron answered “Sex, mate,” she could have slapped him.  
  
There was something sickeningly pleasing about the way Harry's green eyes widened and his cheeks began to pink.  
  
“You want to have sex. With me? Together. Us?” He stammered.  
“Only if that's something you want as well,” Hermione promised, reaching out to cover his hand with hers. “We're so nervous, Harry, of saying this...”  
“And you couldn't have waited until I'd finished my tea?” Harry asked incredulously.  
  
Ron snorted at that. “Some things you just can't keep in.”  
“Apparently, your cock in your pants is one of them.”  
  
It was Ron's turn to blush and look down at his plate. Harry seemed to sense he'd said the wrong thing, joked one step too far, because Hermione saw the worry twist his mouth and crease his brow.  
  
“And when you say sex...” Harry asked softly. “Do you mean sex all together? Or sex separately...”  
  
Ron said nothing and continued looking at his plate.  
  
Hermione realised too late that she should have known that Ron would find it near-on impossible to tell Harry how he felt. How many times before had she stood between them, watching them flounder and hurt each other in the process?  
  
“Any and every combination,” she answered. “If that's what you want.”  
“Can I ask why?” Harry chewed on his bottom lip. “Why now?”  
“Because we're both... we love each other, dearly. But we've been trying to cope with the fact that we both want the same thing in the bedroom. To dominate.” Hermione sat back and gently caressed the rim of her wine glass. “And we thought we could experiment introducing someone else... but when it came down to it, the person we couldn't get out of our heads was you, Harry. We both love you so much. And we both hate to see you so lonely and, forgive me, lost. We want to...” She trailed off, embarrassment getting the better of her.  
  
“You want to what?” Harry whispered.  
“We want to love you completely. Physically.” Ron finally looked up. “Because it's the only thing that will bring both of us peace.”  
  
Harry said nothing in response, just sat quietly in his chair.  
  
“We understand if this is a shock,” Hermione went on. “It was to us, too... but when you think about it, it probably shouldn't have been. God knows after everything we've been through...”  
  
Harry nodded and picked up his fork. He started to eat again, keeping his eyes on his food and not looking at either of them. Hermione looked at Ron in alarm, but he just gave a slight shake of his head and also picked up his fork again. Following suit, Hermione summoned another bottle of wine and put it in the centre of the table.  
  
And they continued in silence, all the way to empty plates and empty wine glasses. Hermione had never felt more awkward in her own home. Ron was growing paler by the minute and Harry was simply unreadable.  
  
It struck her as absurd that two of the most emotional people she knew were both sitting in chaste silence after a bombshell.  
  
Eventually both men looked up.  
  
“Shall we have afters in the living room?” Ron suggested. “More comfortable.”  
“Sure. I'll bring the wine,” Harry said, oddly stiff and formal.  
  
Hermione stared at them both in bewilderment as they both got up and readied things to move into the other room.  
  
Ron stopped as he made to leave, three bowls and spoons balanced on the top of the box. “You coming?”  
“This is weird,” she said quietly.  
  
Ron shrugged helplessly. “No going back now. It's done.”  
  
Nodding, Hermione sent the dirty plates to the sink and set them to wash up by themselves. Taking a few deep breaths, she followed the boys into the living room. When she got there, her breath caught in her throat and she had to grip onto the door frame.  
  
Harry was pressed up against Ron, his fingers cupping the redhead's face. They were kissing. Ron's expression was creased with worry but Harry's was happier than Hermione had seen it in some time.  
  
A flash of fear shot through her. What if Harry only wanted Ron? What if he didn't want sex with her? And what if Ron left her for him?  
  
Nauseated, Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath. It must have been louder than she anticipated because the boys broke apart and looked at her. Ron looked torn up.  
  
“Sorry...” Harry said, coming towards her. “But I had the chance to do something I've wanted to do for years.”  
“You've wanted to kiss Ron for years?” Hermione repeated, her voice growing ever quieter.  
“Yeah, what?” Ron interrupted.  
  
“But this, too...”  
  


* * *

  
  
**Ron**  
  
Watching his best friend kiss his wife was something else.  
  
In the past he'd dreaded it, the fear of them being together and leaving him alone wrapped in his psyche to the point of suffocation. He shivered a little, but there was something different about this. They were kissing tenderly and he thought it was beautiful.  
  
He still felt a bit queasy, however. Ron drifted to the arm of the sofa and perched on it, hugging his arms about his chest and holding tightly. Their kiss had gone on longer than his and Harry's had – did that mean anything?  
  
“Ron? You've glazed over.”  
“Have I?”  
“Are you okay?” Harry asked, and suddenly they were both right there, by his side, looking at him with worried faces.  
  
“That was just... seeing you...”  
“The last time you saw us kiss, you were seventeen, and your heart was breaking,” Harry said simply.  
“Don't,” Ron whispered. “Don't remind me of that.”  
  
Harry's hand came up to tuck some hair behind Ron's ear, and then he leant forward and pressed a kiss to his temple. Hermione put her hand over his.  
  
“So... are we doing this then?” Ron asked gruffly. “Because I need to know.”  
“We're doing it,” Harry said. “I want it... I've always fucking wanted it, but how do you raise that when your two best friends are madly in love? How? And then you just said it and...” he shrugged. “I need this. Please.”  
  
Ron nodded. “And the... part about us both being dominant? What role you'd play?”  
“Do you want some kind of full on sex slave?”  
“If you want to be.”  
“Don't joke,” Harry warned, his tone dropping to a serious half-growl.  
“I'm not joking,” Ron promised.  
  
Something between them had changed. The tension was thick and Ron wondered if he was the only one who was finding it difficult to breathe.  
  
“When?” Hermione asked.  
“Now,” Harry said without missing a beat. “Now.”  
  
Wordlessly Hermione took them both by the hand and led them towards the stairs, and then up them and into their bedroom. It was full of soft, cosy furnishing and a bed which both she and Ron adored. It was already enlarged beyond king-size, so it would happily accommodate the three of them.  
  
Ron crossed the room and opened the window a tiny crack, feeling that fresh air might clear his head a little.  
  
When he turned around again, Hermione was pressing Harry into the mattress, sitting astride his crotch. Harry seemed happy to be passive, allowing Hermione to grope and kiss him. His eyes were closed, his glasses lopsided. Ron thought his heart might have skipped a beat.  
  
He quietly neared the bed and perched on the edge, tilting his head to one side to get a better view of them as they continued. Harry moaned low in his throat as Hermione took his wrists and pressed them high above his head. Ron whispered a spell using thin, translucent green cords to tie Harry's hands to the metal frame of the headboard.  
  
It took him a few moments to twig that he was no longer being restrained by Hermione and when he did, his face flooded with colour and he pressed his hips into the air. Hermione shot Ron a small smile and gestured to him with her head. Ron happily took her place as she gracefully climbed off of Harry and moved up. She began to unbutton his shirt.  
  
Ron's cock gave a persistent throb as he took in the sight of Harry tied down in front of him. He'd thought about it many times, but the reality was even better than he'd imagined. Dark chest hair cradled two hardening nipples, and it led all the way down Harry's stomach and under his waistband. Ron reached out and popped open the button of Harry's jeans. Harry let out a shaky breath.  
  
“Okay?” Ron asked, keeping his voice low and soothing. “If you want us to stop, say the word.”  
“You should choose a safe word,” Hermione said. “Something which we all know means stop.”  
“I don't need one,” Harry insisted, shaking his head.  
“Harry...” Ron lowered down to look into his emerald eyes. “Choose a word. It'll make us both feel better. We don't want to hurt you.”  
“Fine, but if I have a word you have to have one too,” Harry retorted. “Because I'm not the only one who could get hurt here.”  
  
That was fair enough, Ron thought. “Fine. If any of us says the word 'bowtruckle' we're done. Okay?”  
  
Harry nodded and Hermione eventually hummed her consent. Ron then kissed Harry hard on the lips and revelled in the taste and feel of him. It was near enough exactly what he'd imagined. He continued to kiss the wizard beneath him whilst putting his fingers to good use and pulling down Harry's jeans over his hips. He eventually had to break away to look at something he'd wanted to see for a very long time: Harry half-naked and hard for him.  
  
Full body shivers rocked through Harry's slender frame as Ron palmed his crotch. He was wearing boxer shorts with a snitch pattern on, something which caused Ron to smirk.  
  
“They were a gift,” Harry choked out, as Ron's fingers tentatively slipped inside the little fold at the front. “They – ah, fuck! Ron!”  
  
He watched in surprise as Harry tensed up and gasped. Harry was coming, after Ron had done very little to him – barely even grazed his fingertips against his dick. Momentarily stunned, Ron enjoyed watching Harry's face in the moment of pleasure, but then an idea popped into his mind.  
  
“Who said you could do that?” Ron asked, trying to keep his voice sweet but cold. “Because I don't remember saying so. Hermione?”  
“I certainly didn't.”  
  
Harry was looking at them through low-lidded eyes. When Ron pulled down his boxers a little, it exposed the mess he'd made of himself. With a disapproving tut, Ron scooped some come onto his finger and proceeded to trail it in a straight line up Harry's torso to his mouth.  
  
“Filthy boy. What happens to filthy boys, Harry?”  
  
Harry didn't answer, but lay with his chest heaving.  
  
“They're punished,” Ron informed him.  
  
Just saying those words made him shiver. He and Hermione had tried to play together, they really had. But he'd been unable to bear being out of control, and she didn't mind losing control so much, but wanted her own chance to be dominant. They'd tried many points on a spectrum of vanilla to hardcore kink, which had been a pleasant journey, but it still hadn't quite hit the spot.  
  
Ron had learnt from that period of experimentation, however, that he adored bondage and restraint. He loved acting the part of the Master, completely in control of his pet's ability to reach sexual satisfaction. He craved it, even. And Hermione had never been able to bear it.  
  
So to see Harry stretched out his back, hands tied above him which his crotch already sullied and damp – it understandably _did_ things to Ron.  
  
“How are you going to punish me?” Harry whispered.  
  
Ron sprang to immediate action, using a weapon he knew he had because of sharing a dormitory with Harry for so long. He put his fingers to Harry's sides and began to tickle, which made him shriek and try to twist away.  
  
“No, Ron!” Harry panted, desperately trying to wriggle away. “You know I hate being tickled!”  
  
Ron ignored him, figuring that if Harry meant that he'd say what they'd agreed on. It took only a few moments more for him to start howling swear words at the ceiling and arching his back. As hard as he was protesting, it sent blood rushing south to Ron's own cock to see that Harry's was already recuperating from his unexpected orgasm. He tickled his way down Harry's thighs and onto his shins, and then seized one foot. The other immediately kicked him, so he bound it to the bed using the same magic as before.  
  
It took Harry a few seconds to realise that he was nearly fully tied to the bed. He let out a whimper of desperation but Ron only understood why when he glanced up – Hermione was not-so-gently pinching and rolling his nipples between her fingers. Ron shot her a wink and lifted Harry's foot higher into the air.  
  
He appreciated the fact that Harry hadn't particularly groomed well before coming over for dinner – after all, he'd not been expecting an invitation for a threesome. So the sweaty tang of his socks was understandable. What Ron didn't understand was how much more it turned him on. He pulled the sock off and put his nose to the underside of Harry's soft toes. He licked one curiously, to see if the taste appealed as much as the smell. The low moan which rumbled through him gave Ron his answer. He then sucked that toe into his mouth.  
  
Harry started to cry out again but Hermione, it seemed, had had enough of his whinging.  
  
“I think I'm going to have to shut you up, Harry. I can't hear myself think.”  
  
Ron watched with widening eyes and Harry's toe still in his mouth as Hermione stepped out of her knickers – he didn't remember her taking her jeans off either – and swung her knee over to the other side of Harry's face.  
  
“There's a good boy,” she half-cooed, as she gently lifted up into position. “You're going to lick me, Harry. Until I come all over your face.”  
  
Remembering the time she'd tried that on him, Ron stayed still and quiet, waiting to see how Harry would take having his face sat on when there was nothing he could really do about it. Hermione's breath hitched and she lifted up, so that Ron could see Harry's extended tongue reaching out to her. When she sank down again Harry groaned – choked and muffled by the woman on his face.  
  
Ron watched them for a while, noting the gradual pick up of Hermione's canting hips, and the way Harry's cock twitched as it grew fuller and fuller on his belly.  
  
“I want you in me,” Hermione breathed, and she reached down in front of her. Ron guessed she'd made a fist in Harry's hair, because she loved hair-pulling, and Harry cried out in pain to confirm his suspicions. “Yessss...” she hissed. “Slide it in and out, that's it. Such a good boy, Harry. Do I taste good?”  
  
There was a muffled answer and Ron shivered slightly. He gently laid Harry's foot back down on the bed and bound it like the other. Then he smoothed his palms up over hairy shins and stopped when his hands were spread over the man's pelvis.  
  
Harry's cock looked red and frustrated. Unable to help himself, Ron used the spell again to create a tight band around the base, which would prevent any further sudden accidents. Harry moaned as he felt it tightening around him and Hermione looked over her shoulder.  
  
She looked beautiful, Ron thought, with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, mad hair tumbling all over the place. She smiled at him and then without warning leant forward and really pressed her crotch into Harry's face. He moaned to see her from behind with her legs spread. Despite their issues with dominance, she still made him undeniably thirsty.  
  
Hermione slipped off Harry and looked down at him. Ron saw him panting with his glasses steamed up and askew, and the skin around his mouth glistening wet.  
  
Ron chose to ignore that sight and crawled over to Hermione, kneeling up to kiss her over Harry's body. He put one arm around her waist and slipped his hand between them, gently sliding the pad of his middle finger over her clit.  
  
He began to finger her, knowing that Harry had a full on view of everything – including his own erection which was starting to strain past the waistband of his jeans. As if she'd read his mind, Hermione popped open the button and pulled them down a little, freeing his cock up to bat at the air and just above Harry's belly.  
  
“Look at that,” Hermione said, looking down at the man trapped between them. “I think Harry wants your dick, Ron. Look how much he wants it.”  
  
It was true that Harry was open-mouthed and his pupils were dilated.  
  
“Do you want it?” he asked calmly, continuing to finger his wife as he looked at Harry.  
“I want it,” Harry said.  
“How much?” Ron taunted, finally removing his hand and putting his slippery fingers to Harry's nipple, where he began to spread Hermione's dampness over the hardened bud.  
“So much,” Harry whispered, coquettishly blinking up at him.  
  
Ron wanted him to have it, but he was enjoying the power too much. “Not yet,” he said. “If you're a good boy, you can suck my dick for as long as you like. I can sit over there in that armchair and you can get on your knees and blow me away.”  
  
Harry nodded eagerly. “I want that. So much.”  
  
Ron used his wand to give his undercarriage a good clean – he didn't feel great about himself as it was, and he didn't want to inflict anything disgusting on Harry when he made his next move. Which, coincidentally, was to mirror Hermione's, but in reverse. He quickly kicked off his jeans and underwear, then put his backside in Harry's face and then lowered his own mouth over Harry's crotch.  
  
“Oh, gods,” Hermione whispered. “I need to see this.”  
  
Ron felt something twinge in his belly as Hermione hurried to watch Harry tongue his hole. When the first swipe came, Ron had to close his eyes and breathe deeply.  
  
“That's it,” Hermione encouraged. “He likes it slow. Gently circle your tongue, Harry, there's a good boy... see... see how he likes it? Do it again.”  
  
Ron was fighting hard not to moan. He didn't want to block out the sound of Hermione instructing Harry how to rim him – to lose that fucking perfection.  
  
“Softly lap at it, Harry, like a kitten lapping milk. Ron, why don't you show Harry how you want him to rim you?”  
  
He knew she was suggesting he do that on Harry's straining and ever-angry-looking cock, but he was too cruel for that. Instead Ron put his tongue to Harry's belly button and started sliding his tongue in and out of it with a relatively quick pace. Harry squirmed beneath him and Ron chuckled. He smooched a damp path of kisses down Harry's belly until he reached the tip of his cock, where he allowed himself the faintest ghost of a lick before carrying on to his tightened sac. Ron sucked one testicle wholly into his mouth and Harry choked against his anus. The heat was delicious.  
  
“Now, now, Harry, stop slacking off. Here, let me hold your head up.”  
  
Harry moaned as Hermione presumably propped his head up so that his face was pressed wholly into Ron's crack. He began to frantically lick and started to use his lips, forming a tight ring around the opening. Ron released his mouthful to happily moan, and reached down in between his legs to pump the length of his shaft.  
  
Hermione kept Harry in place for a long time, until Ron's knees began to ache and their bedmate was obviously starting to tire, because his licks were long and laborious.  
  
Ron gently pulled away and turned around. Harry was tired, that much as obvious. His cheeks had a dull flush to them which accompanied sweat on his brow. His eyelids were low again.  
  
“You've been such a good boy,” he said softly, reaching out to give the still adamant erection a gentle rub. “How much do you want to come, Harry? How much does it hurt?” He gave a quick pinch to the tip which drew moisture into emerald eyes.  
  
“So much.” Harry's lower lip gave a tiny wobble.  
  
Ron knew how he felt. He wanted to come a storm into either one of them, as soon as possible.  
  
“So... are you too tired to continue?” he asked, reaching down to squeeze the balls he'd recently been sucking on. “Too tired to suck my cock like you promised? Whilst Hermione fucks you?”  
  
He knew that was an absolute dream of Hermione's, but he'd never been able to stand it without developing hysterics – either of laughter or discomfort.  
  
“You mean... with a toy?” Harry asked shyly.  
“A strap-on,” Hermione confirmed, pushing his sweaty fringe away from his eyes. “I want to fuck you, Harry. But not if you don't want me to.”  
  
Harry looked from her to Ron; he seemed to be asking something silently. It was only when he thought about he twigged – _'Will you fuck me too?'_  
  
“I'll fuck you,” Ron promised, bending down to kiss Harry's nose. “As many times as you like, or I want, but tonight... tonight let's do it this way, eh?”  
  
Harry nodded, still looking apprehensive but greatly intrigued.  
  
“Finite,” Ron said, wiping away all traces of the bonds which had kept Harry prisoner. “Get up, Harry, get the blood back into your arms.”  
  
Hermione helped Harry off the bed whilst Ron ripped off the duvet and tossed it on the floor. He also got rid of the pillows before shimmying out of his t-shirt and stretching up.  
  
He didn't realise he had an audience until Hermione laughed, and she was laughing at Harry's look of full-on desire at the sight of Ron completely naked.  
  
Ron indulged them in an eye-watering view from behind as he crawled back onto the bed and settled against the head of the bed. He spread his long legs wide and gestured to Harry to crawl in between them, which the dark-haired wizard did without hesitation.  
  
“I'm going to use a spell, Harry,” Hermione informed him, kneeling behind him and placing one hand on the small of his back. “This will clean and stretch you. Have you ever used a spell like this before?”  
  
Ron saw a look of shame flash briefly in Harry's eyes before he answered, “Quite a few times, yeah.”  
  
He'd be asking about that later, Ron decided. Harry let out a gasp as the spell started to work, closing is eyes and dropping his head forward as he started to pant. He also started to mewl, a sound which drove Ron utterly mad. He picked up his cock and started to stroke it, knowing that Harry could see it and wanted it, but the sensations from behind would be too much for him to act on it at that precise moment.  
  
“B-bastard,” Harry choked out and Ron laughed.  
  
Hermione was quickly preparing herself, arranging her choice strap on – the double ended one which fit snugly into her as well as giving her something to fuck with. The last time Ron had seen it had been their last attempt at it together. It looked much better on her when he knew it was going up someone else's arse rather than his own.  
  
He watched her lazily spreading their chosen lubricant over the shaft and she met his eye, holding it as she massaged it. He could almost feel her actions on his own dick. It was perhaps one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen.  
  
Harry was trembling on his hands and knees between them.  
  
“Are you ready?” Hermione asked, putting her hands to his hips. “Has the spell finished?”  
“Nnngh.” That was all Harry could get out.  
  
Hermione gave him a few more moments of grace, in which time his panting kicked down a notch and he managed to lift his head.  
  
“Okay?” Ron checked, reaching out with his free hand to pull Harry's glasses off and toss them to the side. Then he tucked some hair behind Harry's ear. “That spell is a little beauty, isn't it?”  
  
Harry nodded helplessly, as if the power of speech had completely deserted him.  
  
“Sure you're ready?” Ron probed again, and Harry gave another nod.  
  
Hermione positioned herself and then looked up to hold Ron's gaze as she started to push into Harry's body for the first time.  
  
"Scratch that. **This** is the hottest thing you've ever seen.” Ron mentally corrected himself and suddenly found his mouth very dry. He wanted to look at Harry's face but couldn't bear to look away from Hermione, who looked heavenly in the soft bedroom lighting.  
  
“Oh my god,” Harry cried out, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his jaw fall loose.  
  
Ron nearly came over his best friend's chin at the sight of him so racked with pleasure and pain.  
  
Hermione herself let out a moan of delight as she sank further into Harry's body. Ron thought about what it would feel like to have his own dick in there, properly feeling heat and muscle, spreading Harry open and filling him up completely. Fuck, he wanted that. He wanted to come hot and hard into his best friend's body, holding him tightly so that he couldn't move. He wanted Harry to _feel_ his semen flood through him.  
  
That filthy thought took him right to the edge again and Ron started to pant in a controlled fashion, trying to hold on. He reached up and grabbed Harry's head, pushing it down onto his crotch where finally - _finally_ \- hot, damp lips slipped over the head. Harry started to suck and Ron pressed his head down with the palm of one hand. He curled the other up behind his head and grabbed onto the metal bedstead behind his back. When he opened his eyes again, Hermione was watching them, her eyes furiously hungry as she took in the sight of the man she was fucking giving her husband a blow job.  
  
Ron felt as though every inch of him was being stimulated by heat. He was so hot and he was drenched in sweat. Harry's mouth slid further down around him and Ron was unable to stop his hips from bucking impulsively into the man's mouth.  
  
Harry let out a muffled cry as Hermione began to cant her hips against him, sliding the lubed dildo in and out of his passage. All three of them were gasping and grunting and keening, each desperate, it seemed, to get off on the others.  
  
Ron bucked again as trembling fingers sought out his sac and gently began to roll it. That would be the end of him, he knew – whenever his balls came into it he always blew his load in very short order. And he was going to do it in Harry's mouth.  
  
“I'm nearly... there,” he ground out, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. “I'm gonna come, Harry. Swallow me. Drink me down, you slut. You want this so badly, don't you? You want to swallow my come?”  
He was speaking not only for Harry's benefit, who began to half-sob against him as the words sank in, but Hermione's, because he knew she loved dirty talk.  
  
He didn't mind it either, if he was honest.  
  
Harry took a massive gulp at him and Ron cried out, curling his toes hard as his orgasm took hold. Hermione was loudly moaning as she plunged in and out of Harry, taking her own pleasure at the sizeable dildo deep inside of her. She reached climax shortly after Ron reached his own, and Harry was frozen in between them trembling like a leaf.  
  
Blood roaring in his ears, Ron blinked sweat out of his eyes and let go of Harry's head. It didn't come up at first, but eventually he lifted his face to show Ron glistening, cherry red lips and a dribble of semen down his chin.  
  
“Oh, fuck, you're beautiful,” Ron gushed, and grabbed Harry under the arms and forward into his lap.  
  
That dislodged the strap on and Harry hissed at the sudden loss of pressure.  
  
“Shit.” Ron winced. “Sorry. Too eager... I just want to make you come, Harry.”  
  
He made an effort to be much more gentle as he arranged Harry in his lap, ensuring he had full access to his crotch. Ron curled his fingers around Harry's shaft and began to stroke it up and down. Hermione came forward and bent her head, slipping her mouth demurely over the tip, where she started to suck.  
  
Harry was far too strung out to last a second longer. He stuffed his face into Ron's neck and cried out throughout his orgasm, which Hermione made short work of swirling away with her tongue.  
  
When it was clearly over, she sat back, taking in the sight of Harry curled in Ron's lap, holding on to him for dear life.  
  
“Harry?” she whispered, reaching out to touch his arm, but Harry jumped in shock. “Harry?”  
  
When no answer came she looked worriedly up at Ron and reached out again.  
  
Ron shook his head sharply to stop her. Pulling Harry tighter to his body, he said in a very low voice, “I need you to get me a glass of warmish water and some chocolate.”  
  
Hermione looked like she might question him, but after a split second of thinking about it, jumped off the bed and disappeared out onto the landing.  
  
“Shh, Harry,” Ron said softly, even though he'd not made a noise. “I've got you. You're safe. We're here.”  
  
Just like he'd always done, he began to rock slightly where he sat. When Hermione returned with what he'd asked for he kept it up.  
  
“Can you break it up?” he whispered. “Really small pieces. And transfigure something into a straw?”  
  
Again, Hermione looked like she wanted to ask what and how Ron knew, but she followed his instructions and handed him the pile of chocolate on the wrapper.  
  
“Harry. Here.” Ron reached up and gently nudged Harry's face into view, before putting a tiny piece of chocolate to his lips. “This'll help. It always helps.”  
  
Harry took the chocolate and began to chew it.  
  
“Now offer him a slurp,” Ron said, and watched as Hermione gently popped the straw in between Harry's lips.  
  
They continued in tandem until the pile of chocolate was gone and the glass of water was nearly empty. At that point, Harry had returned to a normal colour and had his eyes open.  
  
“Okay?” Ron asked nervously, pressing a kiss to his forehead.  
“I'm okay,” Harry promised solemnly.  
  
Hermione looked between them wearing a puzzled expression.  
  
“Been a while since you've done that,” Harry commented, his tone flat.  
“Er...” Ron blushed. “I wasn't aware that you knew I used to do that.”  
“Do that when?” Hermione asked.  
“When I had nightmares.” Harry sighed.  
“You never said anything,” Ron pressed. “Never once in seven years.”  
“Well neither did you,” Harry retorted.  
  
Ron supposed he had him there. Never once had he brought up the way Harry had clung to him on multiple occasions in their adolescence.  
  
“It just... you seemed like you wanted to forget them, and the whole thing, so I let you. Or thought I was. But it was always the same. I'd hold you. Dean would get water. Neville would fish around for some chocolate. Shay would open the windows for fresh air and pass me tissues when you needed them. We just... did it. You were so frightened. How could I not want to hold you close to me during that?”  
  
Ron heard emotion building in his throat and stopped talking because of it.  
  
“It was always you that calmed me down, that did it. It happened when you were in the hospital wing when you got poisoned. And it all went to shit because you weren't there, you just... did something to me. You made me feel safe and like everything was, somehow, going to be all right.”  
  
Harry was also sounding decidedly emotional. Everything felt painfully close to the surface, Ron found, and his stomach had started to churn. They'd had sex once and it was already an emotional mess.  
  
“Look. It's getting late. Why don't we all try and get some sleep, eh?” he suggested. “Here. Together.”  
“You're sure?” Harry asked, looking at Hermione.  
  
When Ron glanced at her, he saw she'd been crying.  
  
“Oh shitting hell, Hermione,” he half-wailed, as his own eyes filled with tears.  
  
Since _that_ incident where he'd left the Aurors and had a meltdown, tears came much too easily for Ron's liking. He'd barely cried at all at the time and figured his mind was now punishing him for not letting it out when it was relevant.  
  
“Let's sleep,” Hermione echoed, reaching out to pull both of them into her arms.  
  


* * *

  
**Harry**  
  
His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and it took him several blinks and deep breaths to remember where he was. Harry felt around him in the bed and found the sheets warm but empty.  
  
In a panic he shot bolt upright but then noticed light coming from the en-suite and hurried, low whispers.  
  
“Do you think we did the right thing?” Hermione was saying, sounding fretful.  
“I don't know,” Ron said. He sounded frustrated. “Look, I'm trying to have a shit here, Hermione.”  
“I don't care, I've seen it all before,” she bit back. “I'm so scared, Ron. I've never seen him like that.”  
“It was shock, Hermione. I've seen it before and it's classic Harry. He goes into shock and I did what was needed to pull him out of it.”  
“Do you think it was sub space?” Hermione demanded. “Did we push too much? Did we – oh god, did we abuse him? Are we rapists?”  
“Hermione, for the love of fuck calm down!” Ron cried loudly. “We haven't abused him.”  
“No, but we blindsided him with information.”  
“And we'll talk about it, today. It's not like we're going to shove him out on the road and lock the door, is it?”  
  
Hermione let out a loud huff. “How are you so calm?”  
“Truth be told, love, I'm still half asleep and being tense when you're trying to crap doesn't help anyone.”  
  
Harry choked down an errant laugh which rose within him at that. Just listening to them, Harry couldn't quite believe that they had chosen to allow him into their bedroom. Into the most intimate part of their lives.  
  
“Last night was amazing,” Ron said finally. “It was everything I wanted it to be... more, even.”  
The smile was evident in Hermione's voice as she replied, “Me too. I love him so much, Ron. And somehow, watching you with him... I love you even more than before.”  
“It's weird, isn't it? People always think that seeing your partner with someone else would be awful but that... Godric's balls. I don't want you to do any of that to me, ever, but fucking hell – watching you do it to someone else... the wanking material I've got now. Bloody hell.”  
  
The rest of their conversation was muffled by the sudden sound of the toilet flushing and the tap turning on. When they both returned to the bedroom they jumped in surprise to see Harry sitting up right.  
  
“Morning,” Ron said slyly, looking down at his feet. “How'd you sleep, mate?”  
“All right I think.” Harry rubbed one eye blearily. “Don't remember anything between shutting my eyes and waking up to be honest.”  
“Best kind of night,” Ron said simply as he got back into bed.  
  
Harry held his breath as Ron's warm hands touched his waist. The redhead kissed him tenderly on the top of the head and then settled back against his pillows.  
  
“Cuddle?” he offered, lifting up his right arm so that Harry could slide beneath it.  
  
Harry wasn't going to argue. Ron was offering something he hadn't had for months – non-sexual romantic affection. He couldn't remember the last time someone had stayed long enough to hold him the morning after, to share sleepy morning breath kisses with.  
  
Hermione had stayed put and was watching them. Her body was hidden by an old t-shirt of Ron's that she'd adapted as a nightdress, but it was easy to make out the swell of her breasts just above her folded arms. Her hair was madder than Harry had ever had the pleasure of seeing. She looked so beautiful.  
  
“I'm going to go and make coffee,” she announced. “And whatever I can find for breakfast which takes very little effort. Then... I'll come back here and we can... talk.”  
  
She left before either of them could ask her if she wanted a hand.  
  
“Should I go after her?” Harry asked, turning to Ron.  
“You can if you want to.” Ron shrugged. “But I think that was her way of saying she needs a minute alone. To process, as she'd say.”  
“Oh... right.” Harry remained where he was, enjoying the weight of Ron's arm around his tired shoulders.  
  
They ached from all the time they'd spent tied above his head. It was a pleasant ache, though – one which brought back delicious memories.  
  
“Ron... last night.”  
“She'll kill us if we discuss this without her, you realise?” Ron said, but was wearing a tired smile. “What about last night?”  
“It was amazing,” Harry said weakly. “I can't... I mean. Thank you. Both. For asking me.”  
  
Ron seemingly had no response for that. Harry leant forward and kissed him on the lips. It felt so wonderful to be able to do it after years of trying to bury every loving and sexual thought he'd had about the youngest Weasley male – his best friend.  
  
“I've loved you for a really long time, Ron,” he said.  
“Me too,” Ron whispered. “And I love Hermione in equal measure. In a way I know that she feels about you, too.”  
“I'm worried that this going wrong could ruin everything – our friendship. Your marriage. I'd kill myself if I ruined things between you. I couldn't bear it.”  
“Like we'd let you.” Ron shifted uncomfortably and Harry immediately felt like an idiot – he knew Ron could be easily triggered into revisiting the extreme and dark thoughts he'd experienced at the height of his depression.  
  
“Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say,” Harry mumbled, looking away.  
  
Ron's response was to reach over and lace the fingers of his free hand through Harry's.  
  
“I have to ask, because she put the seed in my head... you don't feel abused or raped, do you, Harry?”  
“Fuck no!” he swore. “Merlin's cock, Ron... those things... they're not even the head on the butterbeer of the depraved shit that goes on in my noggin sometimes,” Harry promised.  
  
It was the truth. Whilst alone he'd had plenty of time to exercise his imagination.  
  
“I'll explore anything with you two,” he said simply. “Anything you want.”  
“So... when I joked about you being my sex slave...”  
“It wouldn't be the first time I've worn a collar and sat at somebody's feet,” said Harry emphatically. “Not by a long shot.”  
  
Ron stared at him for a moment. “Well, you'll be telling us about _that_ later.”  
“I'll tell you everything you want to know. But... Ron... that goes both ways. I know you're not particularly good at voicing your needs and wants and feelings. I know you've got better, too, but... I'm the sort of person who needs to hear how much he's loved, how hot he is, how much you want him to suck your dick. I can't help it. I need that reassurance.”  
“So do I,” Ron pointed out. “I need to know I'm needed, and loved.”  
“But between us... we've never been very good at saying those things to each other,” Harry pointed out.  
  
Ron's expression seemed to fall with disappointment at the truth, but he did say, “We can work on it then. We will. We can sit up all night and have heart-to-hearts if you want. I want you to know how much this means to me.”  
  
Hermione returned then with two floating trays, full of coffee, mugs, plates, toast and crumpets.  
  
“Did you start without me?” she asked suspiciously, glaring at the pair of them.  
  
Ron just laughed. Harry felt his cheeks start to burn. Hermione smiled to herself as she clambered on to the end of the bed and set the trays to float between them. She poured them all coffee and added milk and sugar to their specifications (Ron's with milk and two sugars, Harry's with no sugar but plenty of milk.)  
  
“Harry was just pointing out that he and I have the emotional capability of tea spoons when it comes to each other,” Ron said conversationally as he accepted his mug of coffee from his wife. “And I was saying that we'd work on that.”  
“You are often spectacularly daft when it comes to one another,” Hermione conceded, wrapping her fingers around her mug and settling down. “But you always figure it out in the end.”  
“And this time we've got you,” Harry pointed out. “The one who always made us see sense when we weren't seeing it.”  
  
Hermione shook her head. “No, pretty sure that was all you. Idiotically late, but you nonetheless.”  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and reached out for a crumpet.  
  
“If you get butter on my duvet I will hurt you,” Hermione said, as if she was informing him of the weather outside.  
“Oh, lay off you old hag,” Ron shot back playfully, before stuffing the crumpet whole into his mouth.  
  
Harry looked between them. Again, he found himself unable to believe his luck.  
  
“Mm!” Ron hummed through his mouthful, flapping his free hand to motion to them that he had something important to say and was hurrying as much as possible. He swallowed and went on, “Harry said he's been a proper sub before, with a collar and everything!”  
  
“Really?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows high.  
“There's, uh, a place you can go. Anonymously... that does that sort of thing.”  
“And there we were worrying we'd overwhelm you with our depravity,” Hermione said with a laugh. “You're more experienced than either of us then.”  
  
Harry blushed and drank some more coffee.  
  
A ray of sunlight broke through the curtains then, falling across Hermione's face. Harry couldn't help but stare. He couldn't put two and two together regarding Ron's willingness to share. He'd been terrified at one point that Hermione would leave him and that she loved Harry more. Why was it different now?  
  
They had so much to talk about. It seemed silly to interrupt their peaceful, lazy breakfast with questions and technicalities, however.  
  
“Nobody should think that much before breakfast,” Ron advised suddenly. “Get some toast down you, then we can talk about everything that's going round your pretty head, Harry. Mine too, come to think of it. Though we might need a few days to sort through hers.” He nodded at Hermione and stuck his tongue out at her.  
  
“Remind me why I married such an immature bastard, Harry...” Hermione's eyes narrowed naughtily.  
  
“Because he's got a sweet backside and a delicious dick,” Harry said curtly, and toasted them both with his coffee mug.  
  
 _-fin-_


End file.
